And patched together

“Are you sure you’re alright?” The lanky young man asked for possibly the third time, as you hobbled along on his arm.

You were, in fact, mostly fine. Save for a twisted ankle, a slightly grazed knee and a whole ejaculation of spilled pride.

“My place is just around the corner… let’s get you cleaned up and a bandaid on that knee at least.”

It wasn’t exactly your favourite way to be invited back to a boy’s place… but begging bottoms didn’t get to be choosers. The house turned out to be a quite normal, suburban affair, very similar to the one you shared with Ben. The interior was styled very differently however, with draped velvet, black walls and bats, cobwebs or skull designs everywhere.

“So yeah… my Landlady’s a bit of a goth.” Trev said, scratching the back of his head in half-embarrassment. “She’s also sorta an ex-girlfriend… but she lets me stay for free so… y’know.”

He shrugged with the laidback nonchalance of ‘yeah it’s a bit awkward and complicated, but free is free’. A type of situation you knew well from the end of your own previous relationship.

“It’s awesome!” You offered, honestly. You’d always been drawn to the dark aesthetic, and honestly enjoyed the company of most of the goths you’d met… You’d just never really had the confidence to go down that path yourself and had ended up more candy-coloured and girly by default.

“So is it just you and her who live here?” You innocently enquired, trying to get a little more grasp on the shape of this relationship.

“Err, no… There’s Krysta too. I think they’re dating? It’s kinda hard to tell sometimes. They work together anyway.”

Somehow every word Trev said seemed to make the set-up sound more complicated. You were starting to get invested in this sitcom-that-never-was…

“What work do they do?”

Trev smiled sheepishly, as if not sure whether to be ashamed or proud of his housemates’ career. “Oh, err like… 'content creator' stuff. Tik Tok and Instagram videos. Sorta… softcore porn, really… but like, pretending not to be.”

Your eyes might have lit up a little, widened by the excitement of being now so close to greatness. For if there was anything your perpetually horny, shy and confused sissy self had spent the previous decade doing most… it was watching ‘influencers’ strutting around in their underwear and shaking their asses to whatever the currently trending dance was. You’d practically doomscrolled your way to where you now were in life, a frontline purchaser of every cheap, plastic set of lingerie that such creatures had advertised for you.

“I could dig you up some of their stuff, if you’d like?”